The Avatar
by Catheryne
Summary: No matter the obstacles, Oliver will create the life he wants—wherever it is.
1. Chapter 1

**The Avatar**

By Catheryne/tennysonslady

Characters: Chloe, Oliver, JL, SS, Lois

Summary: No matter the obstacles, Oliver will create the life he wants—wherever it is.

Rating: PG13

AN: So I have been kickstarted again by the best episode of SV in a while. Hope you enjoy this story too.

**Part 1**

Her hair smelled like a meadow. Oliver had expected strawberries. Before he even opened his eyes the fragrance assailed his senses like a powerful reminder of whose bed it was he woke to, which room it was he would wake up to see. At the mere thought his lips curved. Gentle but searching kisses brought him to consciousness and his hands rested on the waist of the body on top of him.

"Wake up, Sunshine," he heard her tease sweetly.

His brows furrowed. He mocked a grumbling noise and opened his eyes. She now leaned over him, with her elbow resting just by his head. The strands of her short hair played over his skin. He cocked an eyebrow, but even then enjoyed the way his smile was a little sore, a little red, like she had been thoroughly kissed the night before.

She always woke up the same way after a night with him.

"Sunshine?"

She bit her lower lip playfully. "It's fitting, don't you think. You're cheerful and sunny and warm."

"And that's because of you," Oliver pointed out. "When you were gone… I think Tess would very honestly brand it as a monsoon, or a tropical storm."

Her eyes crinkled in the corners. She grinned when she asked, "A cold front?"

Oliver chuckled, then pulled her down by the waist until she collapsed over on top of him. At the sensation he pushed his hips up just enough to let her feel him. "Never with you."

Chloe laughed. He loved her laugh so much he had it recorded in a file in his personal computer and he played it over and over and over again in a repeat cycle on his playlist when he worked. Her laughter echoed through speakers, eerie as it bounced off the walls of his closed office. But Oliver shook his head, because that was another life, another world. It was not this picture perfect home. So he focused again on the warm body over him. Her hands rested on his cheeks and he kissed her lips. When her kisses trailed to the line of his jaw, Oliver wrapped his arms tight around her and dropped a kiss into her hair.

She reached his ear, and she whispered there, "I love you."

To which he answered, easily, but with a hitch in his voice that he so disliked when in their bedroom, "I love you."

The change in his tone was whisper soft, almost negligible. But she heard it. She was so near, so used to him, that she recognized the shift. She raised herself up and looked down at him in concern. "Oliver, what are you doing?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry."

And he willed himself to think back to where they were, to the sensation of her body over his, to the smell of her hair. But instead as he looked up into her eyes he recognized the green of her irises pixelate and turn dark. He wrapped his arms around her and told himself to hold on to the form, yet more and more realized his embrace was growing empty. The sunlight that streamed through the windows, warm on his arm earlier, grew cold and sharp. The light around him flickered.

"Ollie, stay," she said sharply. "Stay with me."

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, recovering his senses, calling back the meadows and the warmth of his skin, piecing together the scattered pixels in his mind to recreate the exact shade of her eyes. But there was no butterfly soft touch on his face. He was surrounded by the cold and so realized exactly where he was.

Oliver opened his eyes again, and this time there was one stark and white fluorescent tube light right above him. He stayed there, blinking up at the ceiling. Finally, he pulled himself up until he was sitting on the lab bed. Victor turned around from the computer to face him.

"What happened?" Oliver demanded.

Just seconds from the illusion and already he was desolate for the lost scent and sound.

"An electric fluctuation. I lost power for a second," Victor offered. "It corrupted part of the drive. I'm defragging now."

His eye twitched, a nervous one. Oliver jumped off the cot and stalked over to Victor. "Did we lose her?" Victor did not answer. Instead he returned to his work. "Victor, did we lose Chloe?"

"It's an avatar, Oliver," Victor informed him tersely. "It's an avatar and a set of preprogrammed scenarios. I'll run a check to see if the files are damaged." There was a moment's pause. "We lost Chloe long before this."

Oliver glared at his teammate. He still had the external drive, the device that she had pressed into his palm the day she turned her back on him and vanished back into the Squad.

"If you want to see me walk through those doors, it's here. If you need to stand in a subway to come across my smile, you just use this. Because I won't ever leave you alone again the way I did the last time. With this, Ollie, I'll always be here waiting for you."

"You don't really know me if you think a small black drive is going to make up for losing you."

"You're not losing me." Rick Flagg stood behind Chloe, and Chloe glanced back to the man and nodded. She turned back to Oliver. "But I need you to trust that I am doing this for you."

"I'm Oliver Queen," he said, his voice firm. "I don't need any more sacrifices from you. This time I need you to trust me to save us—whatever threat it is you know about. I trust you with my life. Do you trust me?"

"Sullivan," Flagg barked from the back.

Chloe said sharply, "Wait in the van!"

Flagg retreated at the command. Chloe looked up at Oliver, then cupped his cheek. Oliver turned his hand and kissed her palm. She blinked.

"Do you, Chloe?" he asked. "Stay here and tell me what else you saw. Trust me to save us."

She looked back at him, and from the sadness in her eyes he recognized her response. His heart splintered. He was frozen when she raised herself up on the tips of her toes and kissed his lips. And then she turned away, walking fast to run across the street and towards the black van that roared to life once it consumed her.

The memories faded, and Oliver stood watching over Victor's shoulder. When the test completed, Victor sighed in relief.

"It's gone," Victor pronounced, and the words were laced with triumph.

It was no surprise, that reaction. Victor had wanted to destroy the scenarios since the day he walked in on Oliver installing them himself, then putting himself under to connect to the mainframe. The man had introduced malware into his system that had fortunately been no match for the security system that Chloe's software had thrown around itself.

Oliver's lips thinned. "What do you mean? The scenarios. They saved into the server directly."

"But the avatar was corrupted. It's gone, Oliver. Look, it's been two years— For a program written by an amateur it's had a decent payload."

He pushed aside the utter ridiculousness of Victor calling Chloe Sullivan an amateur. Oliver almost collapsed in relief that Victor did not deny the scenarios still existed. "I still have all the raw data files. I can bring her back."

"Listen to yourself," Victor tossed back to him. "Let it go, Oliver."

Oliver glanced at the computer. "I should go back there. We were at home and—"

Victor grabbed his arm. "I think you've had enough. You've had enough the third month you used the software. Home isn't in there, Oliver." He shook his head. "Dinah is waiting in your actual home." 

Dinah.

"You remember Dinah, Oliver?" And the statement was sarcastic, meant to jar him out of the fleeting memories of the virtual world that he had willingly and secretly visited in the last year.

"I need to go home," Oliver whispered.

Victor sighed in relief. He grasped Oliver's arm, then said, "I know this isn't what you wanted, what you planned for… "

"But this is reality," Oliver finished for him. Victor nodded. Oliver continued, "Drop me off?"

Back in his penthouse Oliver pushed open the bedroom door and glanced inside. Dinah slept alone in the large bed, just as she had the last year. He walked towards his home office and sat behind the large desk. Oliver reached down below and opened the safe at the bottom drawer. When the locks clicked, he pulled the door open and took out the external flash drive.

Oliver plugged the flash drive into the powerful computer set up in the office. As the files extracted themselves and the avatar built itself in his machine, Oliver walked over to the door and locked it. He sat down in front of the screen, then opened the port to the servers. Oliver took the tools he had pushed Queen Technologies to complete the first year she had gone missing, when he had just unraveled the contents of the drive. He linked himself up to the computer with the cables connected to his temples and his nape, then rested back in the seat.

The house was unsteady, flicking still, like the application was yet stabilizing in its new environment. He needed to make sure he upgraded the home office computer. It was nowhere near as powerful as the mainframe in the lab. The walls were not as solid, but slowly the colors grew more solid and he passed through the corridor and the environment sank further in his mind.

His pace quickened. The corruption and eventual defrag had rearranged the layout of his home. Oliver raced through the house. The scenarios should be safe, because the upload of his progress in the last year was direct to the server. It should not have been impacted by the outage.

But the home was empty on a day and a time when it should not be. He called her name, his voice growing louder, stronger.

Yet it almost seemed like it was gone. Completely.

"Chloe!"

"Here," was the faint cry in return.

Oliver looked to the right where the kitchen door should have been. Instead he found a staircase leading to the bedrooms. He took the steps two at a time. When he reached the landing halfway up, he saw the framed photograph of Chloe and their precious treasure. He closed his eyes and muttered a quick thanks. The year was not gone. He ran up the steps until he passed the master's bedroom. He stopped at the door right next to it. Oliver's heart pumped heavily and quickly. He pushed the door open and sighed in relief at the sight.

Chloe was bent over the crib. She turned and threw an apologetic smile at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't come," she said. "Connor made a mess."

Oliver let out his breath slowly. He stepped inside the room and walked towards the crib. Beside her he stopped and wrapped an arm around her waist. And then he saw him, his little boy, feet kicking even while his mother tried to grab his ankles so she could wipe his bottom.

"There was an earthquake earlier this morning. The power went out and I think there was some infrastructure damage to the road. Where were you?"

"Work," he said easily. "Were you and Connor okay?"

She nodded. "You needed me?" Chloe asked softly. She set aside a soiled wet tissue and then reached for another one.

"It's alright," he answered. His shoulders relaxed at the sight.

"Well I need you. The nanny's not coming in today. Can you stick around and help out with the baby?"

Oliver reached for a diaper and turned to Chloe, holding it up. He grinned. "Always."

Her eyebrows rose. "Sure? You're not going to go running off again and vanishing like you always do?"

"I'll stay. And I won't have to go off patrolling until you're asleep. I promise."

She smiled. "Good."

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**The Avatar**

By Catheryne/tennysonslady

Characters: Chloe, Oliver, JL, SS, Lois

Summary: No matter the obstacles, Oliver will create the life he wants—wherever it is.

Rating: PG13

**Part 2**

She was sleeping, and the mild breathing was rhythmic and peaceful. Oliver rested his head on his hand as he looked over from his side of the bed. Right between them Connor slept, his plump arms covered by the full white frogsuit that she had bought from Mothercare when he was away.

Oliver reached for her arm and gently squeezed. Her lashes fluttered, and when her brows furrowed as she strove to open her eyes, he said softly, "It's alright. Go back to sleep. I'm going to step outside for a bit and do some patrolling."

"Okay," she breathed out. "Stay safe."

Oliver leaned down and kissed her eyebrow. When he stood he bent and picked Connor up in his arms. Almost immediately Connor curled in his arms and nuzzled his nose in the small of Oliver's throat.

As he walked towards the door, Oliver heard her soft voice call for him. "I'm just putting him back to his crib."

"No, no," she said. Chloe patted the space on the bed beside her. "Let him stay here. He's my only companion whenever you leave."

How it worked he could not know. For the longest time he had thought this world stopped when he was gone, but the pregnancy and Connor's birth proved to him that the virtual reality happened real time.

Oliver walked back towards Chloe and sat by her in the bed. Chloe raised her arms and took the sleeping baby, then lay down on her side, curving her body, creating a crescent shape that best sheltered Connor.

"Come home soon," she told him when he turned to leave.

He was reluctant to leave, but even as he stayed he almost felt that there was a disruption, an unwelcome presence in their bedroom. Oliver turned and scanned the room quickly and saw nothing. "I'll be right back," he promised her. And then before he could change his mind Oliver quickly left the room.

He reached up his hands to his temples and stripped invisible cables away. He looked down at his hands and dropped the devices on the desk before him. And then his gaze shifted to the corner of the home office. There was no surprise when he found Dinah standing there, leaning back against the wall.

"How did you get in?" were the first words he uttered, as if the fact did not matter that he had been caught doing exactly the thing she was there in his home to keep him from doing.

"How did I get in?" she repeated, as expected. "Oliver, what are you doing?"

"Let's not play games. You know exactly what the answer to that question is."

She strode towards him, and she did not seem defeated but defiant. Often Oliver forgot what a rebel she had been before and during her stint in the League. Almost always she reminded him. With her quick reflexes that showed him just how much better she was at martial arts, she grabbed the QI device that had hooked him up to the computer just moments before.

"How much time did you steal from your own company for this?" she demanded.

"It doesn't matter." His eyes narrowed. "Give it back to me."

The way she grasped the device was sinful. The cables tangled and the magnetic ends were so close to depolarizing. But that was how people who cared little treated the best things in the world.

"Give it back before you damage it!" he demanded, his voice thunderous.

She met his gaze, glare for glare. There was a flicker of something in her gaze. Oliver thought it was a little pity, but he would not consider it. What he had done, what he needed to do, was not pitiful. It was just a matter of survival.

Dinah dropped the device onto the table. Oliver grabbed it at once. He leaned down and opened the drawer, then slid it inside. When the drawer shut quietly, it seemed that all his problems disappeared. He faced Dinah once more. "The last time I checked this was my office, and you're not allowed in here."

"I stayed with you to help bring you back, Ollie. I drew the short straw, but I did what I had to do."

"You never followed orders before. Why start now?"

"Because she saved my life, kept me from being trapped in that hellhole of a computer," Dinah reasoned. "I owed it to her to keep you from suffering the exact same thing."

Chloe had given him everything he needed. But the entire League had conveniently ignored it. She was the one who gave him the VR. She was the one who wanted him to vanish.

"Oliver," Dinah's voice lowered, "I thought I succeeded until I spoke with Victor only to find out you've done it again."

When she spoke it was as though this was an addiction, that she needed to wean him, that he would collapse into withdrawal symptoms more dangerous than when he quit alcohol.

"What I do with my life is none of your business."

"I gave up a career, dialed back on missions for you. This was my mission for the last year and I did it well. I don't give up on missions, Oliver. I stayed. For you."

"I never asked you to," he answered. The one woman he did ask to stay left him with a lifetime—but it was fake. Fake was better than nothing.

"I don't want to watch you throw your life away."

"You think this is throwing my life away? This is the best way I've ever dealt with loss, Dinah." He wanted to be fair to her. She and the team had made the decision to install a sitter for him like he had been a child.

He and Chloe still had a half dozen sitters coming from the interview, filtered by the agency. He had to remember to put it in his calendar. Then again Chloe must have done it already. Someone had to be pulled to program a sync between his calendar in the office and the server uploads.

"I can't watch this. Neither can the team."

The room was uncomfortably cold. He must have left the air conditioning temperature set to a chill. Looking at her, feeling the pinpricks of coldness biting into his skin, it was no wonder his mind drifted again to the warm cocoon of the bed that he had only just moments ago left. Connor must be awake now. The thick, pregnant quietness between Dinah and himself was stifling. By now Connor would be crying in bed. He almost always rose four hours after he deposited him into his crib, hungry and demanding, with a scream so loud and strong the boy made him proud. Chloe would need to get up out of bed and give him his bottle. Before he left Oliver had placed the sterilizer and the bottles on a higher shelf to make room for the can of formula. Suddenly he wanted to go back, because even if she spotted them where he had displaced them she would have to find a step stool to get the bottles.

This conversation with Dinah had no destination, was a waste of time compared to what he was missing.

"You need time to think, Dinah," was his answer. Her brows furrowed. Her jaw tightened. Almost like she knew where he was going. "Because whether you like it or not, this is part of my life. Tell that to the team. Then you decide whether or not you want to stay. It's no great loss to me whatever you want to do."

She blinked. "Obviously I can't get through to you." She reached for the door. "Maybe AC or Victor can talk some sense into you."

Oliver remained silent. Partly because he had nothing to say. Partly because he remained halfway in a place that was not real, a place he would much rather be in.

Dinah's lips moved, but he heard nothing from her lips.

But faintly, as if the voice came from the floors, the song rose. It was like floating fingers that climbed, brushing past his legs, surrounding him, creeping by his shoulders until it reached his ears. It was recognizable, unforgettable. _Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird. If that mockingbird don't sing, mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring—_

Oliver blinked. He glanced down at the drawer, itched to pull that small device that connected him to that world.

When he looked up Dinah was gone. She had left the door open, a silent plea for him to emerge. Oliver slid open the drawer and plugged the device back into the computer, raised the band to his temples. The door mocked him. The dim yellow light inviting him to the carpeted corridor. Dinah's words rang in his head, warning with the gentle song. Oliver put down the device and walked to the door.

He reached for the knob. Standing at the threshold, Oliver glanced outside, saw glimpses of Dinah as she gathered bare necessities and her car keys. He licked his lips. Soon he would hear from the team, the entire group would come down on him the way they had done once before when Victor first found him in the lab, strung to the VR.

Oliver pushed the door close. He pushed the lock, then went back to his seat and put on the device.

He was in his Green Arrow suit, and quickly the walls and ceilings, the walls and furnishings built around him as he walked. His legs carried him forward, and his feet rose to take a step even before the stairs materialized. His consciousness wrapped around the binary code that glimmered around him, and before his feet hit the emptiness there was the step. Oliver jogged up the stairs and made his way past the master's bedroom.

"If that diamond ring turns brass, mama's gonna buy you a looking glass. If that looking glass gets broke—"

The worry, the heavy burden that Dinah had placed on his shoulders fell away. He stopped at the nursery door and watched. Chloe stood at the center of the room only in the nightgown he had given her just a couple of months ago, and it was a lovely and sinful sight the way she gleamed golden in the dark room. Animal shapes were thrown to the ceiling and the wall while the musical globe played in the corner. In her arms Connor fussed, but she kept the rhythm and the dance movement that they both knew calmed the baby.

"Mama's gonna buy you a horse and yoke."

Ever watchful, always protective, Chloe whirled around at the small shift in the air. When she saw him she relaxed.

"What are you doing here, Romeo? I thought you'd be flying through rooftops right about now," she said softly. He walked into the room. "Not that you're not welcome. Your son is getting heavy and I could use an alternate."

Maybe he could call the agency and set up the interviews earlier. He extended his arms. When she hesitated, his lips curved. "I'm sterile," he insisted. "No criminal blood splattered on the leather. See?"

He offered himself up for inspection. She bit her bottom lip playfully. "You might want to stop tempting me, Ollie. The doctor did give me an all clear to ravish you." Oliver chuckled. "Whether or not you have fresh blood on that suit doesn't matter. That's what you use to wrestle bad guys to the ground. You're not carrying Connor in that."

"You didn't think it was disgusting when we were making Connor," he insinuated.

Chloe flushed. And he loved it. Adored that despite the bluster and the strength most of the time Chloe would not push the boundaries when their son was around—a son that obviously would understand nothing yet. She gave a small laugh. "Whatever I thought of the Green Arrow that led to this, it doesn't change the fact that Connor's skin is not going to touch the suit, Ollie."

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll change. Serves you right if Connor decides to be the next Green Arrow."

As he walked out of the nursery, he heard Chloe call out from behind him, "He's going to be forty before I let him." Oliver shook his head and chuckled. The boy's mother started her crusade at fifteen, and he definitely took up the bow and arrow early in life. Then again, Chloe can live in denial the first eighteen years. There should be no problem with it. When he walked back into the room in a t shirt and sweatpants, Chloe smiled in appreciation. His chest swelled. Because even now the admiration was clear on her face, the attraction evident. "By then his skin won't be so baby soft."

"True," Oliver acknowledged. "So it wouldn't hurt to baby him today."

He took the baby from her and watched as she collapsed heavily in the rocking chair, flexing her arms. He took up the spot in the center of the room and rocked Connor back to sleep himself. The baby mewled and complained at the transfer, which interrupted the long journey back to sleep. Oliver shook his head. "Where were you?" he asked softly.

Chloe rested her head back in her seat and smiled as she watched them. "Horse and yoke?" she hazarded a guess.

Oliver nodded, equipped enough with his tools. "If that horse and yoke won't pull, mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull. If that cart and bull turns over, mama's gonna buy you—"

He marveled at the sight of Chloe in that rocking chair, within moments of sitting falling asleep. Oliver walked over to where she sat and shook her. "Go back to bed. I'll be right there," he said softly.

Without hesitation Chloe stood and kissed his cheek, then Connor's. Chloe made her way blindly out of the nursery.

Finally, when Connor was asleep, Oliver deposited him back to the crib and turned on the nature sounds. He put the blanket over his son and tucked to bolster pillows on either side of him. Not a lot could knock Chloe out, but obviously Connor could exhaust his mother so much that he doubted Chloe had had the energy for much else.

He joined Chloe in their bedroom. She was curled in the bed, primly on her side, leaving a wide room for him. Oliver climbed in and pulled the covers over the two of them, relished the warmth that he could not forget. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, then pulled her close to him. She murmured deep in her throat.

"Hi Ollie," she whispered in greeting.

"Sorry about leaving."

"You're the Green Arrow," she said, as if it explained everything. "There's a world out there for you to protect."

Oliver took a deep breath. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck. "I like this world infinitely better," he confessed.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?"

He felt her hands close over his as they held her. For a moment there was a sharp sting in his eyes, which he rapidly blinked away.

"Is Connor exhausting?"

"Connor is supposed to be exhausting. But he's the best thing that happened to me," she answered.

"We'll get a nanny," he promised her.

"I'd prefer it if you were just around more. Work from home. Cut hours from your both your jobs." She turned in his arms. Oliver looked down at her, stared into her eyes, refused to rise above the consciousness where she was real and right in front of him. "Spend more time with us."

He breathed. A pause. "Yes."

"Yes?" She broke into a bright, sunny smile. Chloe grasped his neck and pulled him towards her for a kiss.

Oliver nodded. "I'll take a vacation from work. I'll make sure the League takes over patrol. I'm staying with you, Chloe."

She blinked away tears, and he was reminded of the day he started playing the pre-packaged scenario that started when she was about to leave him, when she spoke sincerely and broke it to him easily, but he had easily manipulated to an end he loved better. The scenario uploaded into the server which ended with them in the small church, dripping wet from the rain, her eyes misty with tears while he recited vows to him that had been long in his head. She had given him a breakup, and he had played the VR well and ended it with a wedding.

All it took was persistence like his, love like theirs. Even in script she could not deny her natural responses to him.

She embraced him, rested her head on his chest. She twined their fingers together. "You know," she said, yawing, "in a year or two, I wouldn't be opposed to another baby, Ollie." His heart stopped. "Maybe a girl. That would be nice. You and Connor could go fishing or camping. You can teach him all the survival skills you learned in the island and I can go make a little reporter out of our daughter."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Another year or two, and this will turn out to be a lifetime. Slowly his hand crept up to his temples, counting to ten before he would tear the device away.

Her hands caught his. She raised his fingers to her lips. "I love you," she said.

Oliver closed his eyes and settled back on the bed. "I love you too."

~o~o~

Dinah landed in the alley, across where Flagg's van was parked. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of Flagg waving in a delivery in wooden crates that were marked with caution signs and military placards. Victor had given up on Oliver. AC and Bart had no contribution to the discussion. And since she was ineffective in getting through to him, only one person would be able to destroy the wall that Oliver built around him. It would be the person who caused it to begin with.

Chloe hid herself well. Dinah could find no trace of her. But the Squad, despite their uncanny ability to hide or appear dead, was still easier to track than the former Watchtower.

Dinah ran from the alley and crossed the street. In her black costume she was a part of the shadows. Dinah jumped across the metal fence and darted up to the window of the building. Despite the old and dingy exterior, the building was well furnished and high tech within.

That removed any doubt that Chloe Sullivan was part of the operation. After all, she was rather unimpressive outside—simple, plain. Inside was a powerhouse. So much of a powerhouse, in fact, she destroyed Oliver Queen remotely by giving him a fucking key to happiness.

When Flagg was gone, Dinah broke into the facility and wandered around. She switched on the lights and found herself standing in front of the security door. She set up her comm link and called for assistance.

"Canary, where are you?"

The other woman's voice on the end of the line jarred her. She had expected Victor. Now she had to depend not only on one of Oliver's flames but also with a woman that hardly anyone trusted.

Dinah was curt when she gave the specifics of the security device. Just as coldly, Tess related, "Once you remove the cover, cut the green and blue wire and cross them."

No sooner had the instructions been given when the door clicked, and slowly the obstacle moved.

"Did it work?" Tess said into the comm link.

"I'm going radio silent," Dinah uttered.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the fog. It was a cold mist. Dinah realized the room was a freezer. She stepped inside. In her skimpy costume, Dinah shivered. She wished there was a jacket, or a blanket. Close to the doorway she spotted a white lab coat. Without thinking twice Dinah reached for it and put it over her shoulders. She walked into the freezing room and found a familiar glass tube, just one, sitting at the very end.

The sight was eerie, reminding him of the VRA lab where the team had been captured. The lone glass containment bed was hooked to the computer. Dinah shuddered. The Suicide Squad should have been working with them. All along they had been working with the VRA. There was no other way to explain the presence of the technology.

Dinah rushed over to the glass and ran a gloved hand over the frosted mirror. She peered at the face inside.

The villain—the hero—by now Dinah had run out of words to use. But she was asleep, soundly and still. Her shock at seeing who it was caused her to press the button on the tube inadvertently. The glass tube hissed. The cover lifted. It was a little different from her own capture. Dinah saw the tiny sensors attached to Chloe. She raised a hand and held it over Chloe's face. Her breathing was faint, but there.

Even at the loud noise as the tube opened she did not stir.

Suddenly there was the eruption of an alert. Flashing red lights surrounded her. Dinah whirled around and saw Flagg racing through the doors. The large man barreled towards her. Dinah tumbled to the side just as Flagg reached her. To her surprise, instead of turning to her to attack, Flagg hit the button on the tube that lowered the cover.

Flagg pointed towards her, then spat, "Get out before Deadshot blows your head off." He narrowed his eyes. "Unfortunately for you, Sullivan isn't up to the task of barking orders for us to stand down."

She glared up at the man.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "I thought you were working for her." And then she hit him where he would most hurt, where most men of his caliber would hurt. "Never figured you for having weak loyalties, commander."

Her mind raced. She could activate the comm link, call out an SOS to Tess Mercer and have the team present immediately. But this was Chloe, and Oliver would despise her even more if she allowed Tess to lead the charge. And if anything untoward resulted from that, then Dinah was sure she would never be forgiven.

With one last glance towards the glass tube that quickly fogged and hid away her discovery, Dinah burst into a sprint out the doorway.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Avatar**

By Catheryne/tennysonslady

Characters: Chloe, Oliver, JL, SS, Lois

Summary: No matter the obstacles, Oliver will create the life he wants—wherever it is.

Rating: PG13

**Part 3**

Chloe looked around the restaurant, eager to find the familiar head of dark hair towering over the sea of patrons. At the sight of her, Clark raised a hand and waved her over. Chloe nodded and shook out of her coat, then handed the garment to the waiting hostess. She reached the table that Clark had reserved for them. Chloe eyed her friend with suspicion when at once he stood up and gave her a warm hug.

Clark released her, then eyed her with raised brows. "That isn't a greeting from the Chloe I know."

Chloe pursed her lips. Two years he had been absent from her life and Oliver's. She doubted that Clark had a right to question her reaction—or rather non-reaction—to him. "The Chloe you know was your best friend," she pointed out. "And best friends don't go missing for…" she trailed off as she thought back, then continued, "two years."

"Well I think it's still pending if I'm at fault."

Chloe arched her brows. How quickly Clark Kent chose to forget. "Clark, you were gone for two years," she stressed. "I wasn't. I was here with Ollie and Connor."

Clark sat back in his seat. Chloe looked at him with full measure before settling back down in her seat.

"You look confused," Clark said quietly. He pushed a glass of water towards Chloe. "Are you?"

Chloe blinked, and she thought back to the moments prior to walking into the restaurant and found it blank. She turned to her right. Her gaze swept the room, and she inhaled the details of the scene. That waiter nearly dropped his tray when that woman in the white dress abruptly pushed her chair back. The man across the table from the woman held aloft a box that Chloe was sure housed an engagement ring.

"Tell me how you got here, Chloe. Did you take a cab?" Clark pushed further.

But there was nothing in her memory that slightly hinted at the trip from the bed she shared with Oliver to the foyer of the restaurant, when she said Clark's name and the hostess confirmed that the reservation was on the list.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

And her mind whirled at the impossibility. Because she had asked the very thing. His hand on the table opened, and he offered her his palm.

Her hand fisted on the tablecloth.

"You're not real," he said.

She sucked in her breath.

"You may admit it out loud or not, but you know you're not real," he told her. "This is not real. Nothing in this world is."

"Don't be absurd," she managed to choke out, forcing a chuckle from a throat too tight to even let out a breath.

"Chloe," he said firmly, "you asked me to trust you once. I might not deserve it, but I need to ask you to trust me. You're an avatar."

And despite the impossibility of turning in Oliver's arms and finding herself dressed for dinner, ready to meet a friend who had been missing for years, Chloe's senses shuttered at the thought that he brought up. She had married, given birth, felt the pain and bled in here. And Clark's words were just—

"Don't be ridiculous, Clark," she said, her voice taking on an edge now.

When she did not bother to take his hand, Clark closed his hand around her fist instead. He kept his gaze on hers, serious, firm. "Victor created a scenario that linked me to the ones you created for Oliver," he told her.

The scenarios—two years. They were supposed to end when—

And she remembered the rain, that torrent that poured like there would be a flood that would sweep them away. Chloe stood before him, soaked to the bone, a figment of a program lodged in the entire system he had designed for him. If all else failed, she had kept a part of her in the software to give closure to the love of her life. But the torrential downpour was not just vaguely familiar. There had been a sharp pain, and Chloe fell down to the wet ground as Flagg and Deadshot bent over her. And then there was that cold peace.

And suddenly she was shivering, her arms held in a viselike grip. She looked up as Oliver towered over her.

For a moment she had wondered what had happened to the scenario she had written and rewritten—perfected even to the point of pain. It was her darkest hour when she needed to say goodbye to him. Chloe raised a hand and reached for his face, and in the cold darkness while the rain washed over her hand she could feel every hot teardrop coursing down his cheeks.

Her eyes fluttered as her vision adjusted to the dim lights of the church. The candles flickered in the corner, burning warm and steadily, keeping alive the prayers and the indulgences. A woman, some stranger, lifted up a child as the little girl exposed the wick of her small yellow candle to a burning flame. Chloe watched in fascinated when the girl gasped as the wick caught fire.

"There is no one I would trust with my life. Except you," she heard him say. "No one I would rather be, than this version of myself you make me."

She blinked as the small flames grew and glowed. "Ollie."

The brightly burning flames surrounded them. The church went ablaze as all around them suddenly there were hundreds and thousands of small indulgence candles burning away old sins, exterminating past lives.

"It starts today," he told her.

Her eyes fluttered closed when he bent and caught her lips in a kiss. She raised her arms around his neck. And then all of it fell away.

Chloe pushed her chair back and stood up. When she opened her eyes the sight of Clark was staggering to her. She hardly remembered the wedding, when she had begun to draw away. "You're lying," she managed, even through that barrage of memories that visited her only now.

"This is not real," Clark insisted, his voice firm. And then he gripped her arm. "This life—"

"No!"

"I'm here to take you back, Chloe."

Chloe narrowed her eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest. Chloe reached for her back and stiffly walked out the door.

"You know I'm right."

Chloe turned away and stalked towards the entrance. Victor was good, but she was far better. Abruptly she turned on her heel and maneuvered her way through the restaurant. If Clark was right, and Victor merely linked an opportunity for Clark, then she was in control. This was creation. Victor's program was merely a parasite sucking off the resources from hers.

Chloe turned to the bathroom and pulled open the door.

Clark stood there with his arms across his chest. "You need to believe me!"

Damn. Clark Kent was getting good at this too.

Still, not as good as her. And if they were to be believed—she ignored the pang of pain in her heart—then she had been living here for years.

Chloe's lips thinned. "Get out of here, Clark!" And then with a deep breath she walked right past his figure. Her skin turned cold when he exploded into billions of ones and zeroes.

Connor.

Her tears gathered in her eyes.

Clark was binary, and this was not real.

Connor, she thought again.

She stopped in her tracks. Just as she had expected, she was in a narrow walkway. At the very end there was that yellow light she recognized. It was the warm nightlight of the nursery. She could see the tiny lighted animals playing on the walls. They were small. So was Oliver as he paced the nursery with Connor screaming in his arms.

"Oliver is stuck in here with you now. He can leave anytime he wants but he won't," said Clark. "You thought you'd free him by giving him that drive, but all you did was give him a way out of the real world."

The narrow walkway was firm under her shoes. All she had to do was cross. Victor was becoming better and better. And she hated his talent, abhorred that he could create this link to her. She could cross this now.

"I know you, Chloe. I know the look on your face. You believe me."

Chloe felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder. He could not see, she realized. He could not participate in her life. Victor had not built his avatar well enough to intrude on the reality that she created. She congratulated herself on the security that blocked out any other presence but Oliver.

"So many things don't make sense, do they? And now they're starting to."

Without turning around and looking at him, Chloe walked away, across the black walkway that tunneled into the nursery. And then she was in her nightie. She arrived to find Oliver slumped in the rocking chair with Connor asleep on his chest. Chloe knelt before them and touched their sleeping faces. At the sensation of her fingertips Oliver woke. Chloe stood and gathered Connor in her arms. His face turned to the crook of her neck. Chloe rubbed her nose in her son's hair.

"Go back to sleep," she whispered to Oliver.

Oliver crossed the room and proceeded to the shelf at the side. Chloe hummed a lullaby to a child already asleep. She glanced at Oliver and found him shaking a bottle of milk and placing it in the heater. A silent routine. She would miss that.

Her arms tightened around the baby. And then right at that moment she felt her knees grow weak. Chloe made her way to the rocking chair that Oliver had only just vacated. She sat down and was surrounded by the warmth he left behind. She took a deep breath, smelled baby powder and that amazing, heavensent smell that was all Connor.

Oliver walked towards them and placed a hand on Connor's back.

She cleared her throat. Chloe licked her lips. "Do you ever worry about losing him?" she whispered. When Oliver cocked his head at her, she continued, "I can't imagine what life's like without him. Can you?"

A pause. Chloe's eyes roamed his face. He was here. And he knew. She wondered what it was like inside her hsuband's—no, she corrected herself—Oliver's head.

"It's hell," he said simply. "That's why I will never leave."

Chloe nodded. Oliver reached for the baby, and she was reluctant to release him. Then Oliver took Connor and tucked him into his crib. Chloe turned on the chimes above his crib and watched as the little donkeys and baby bears started their carousel journey, calming, soothing.

Chloe allowed him to pull her to their bedroom. When Oliver climbed into the bed, Chloe walked to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She searched her face, looking for a sign of numbers or code. But it was just her. Her hands trembled when she turned on the faucet. Chloe stared at the running water clear from the faucet and washing down the sink. She put her hand underneath.

It felt real.

Almost as real as the overwhelming emotion that washed over her when she held her baby.

Oliver called her name from the bedroom.

"Give me a few minutes!" she called back.

And then she looked at her other hand and noted the razor she gripped now. Chloe watched as slowly the razor went across the sink and rested on her wrist. She winced at the pain when the blade cut into her skin. The running water turned from clear to a bright pink against the porcelain sink.

The pain felt real.

As real as the fullness that screamed at her when Oliver fit inside of her, stretched her at night in their bed. As real as the heat that coiled inside of her when he whispered he loved her.

And then suddenly the curse took her back to the present. The blade was snatched abruptly, thrown harshly into the sink. And there were curses floating above her. She blinked up at Oliver as he grasped her arm and wrapped a towel around her wrist.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

Chloe blinked. She wondered why even that seemed slow. Her servers never operated on batteries, but it seemed like the entire world slowed.

"I wasn't trying to hurt myself," she whispered. She unwrapped the towel from her wrist and showed him. The towel was soaked with blood, but the cuts on her wrists were healing fast. "I can't get hurt," she said to him softly.

The look on his face—right then when realization hit him—

"I got a visit from Clark," she confessed.

"You healed fast," he said quickly. "It could be part of the powers that we thought were gone." His explanation, his insistence on the lie. It made her love him. So much more. And then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and he helped her to bed. "You're exhausted. Why don't you lie down and sleep. Connor will be awake again in a few hours and he'll look for you."

Chloe did not want to sleep. Sleep would mean she was vulnerable. Sleep meant Victor could bore holes. But Oliver was so real. And her brain was so tired of fighting and fixing. She closed her eyes.

Oliver took a deep breath. He raised his arms up to his temples.

When Oliver pulled the device from his eyes, Oliver returned to the home office. It was no surprise to him when he found Clark Kent standing before him with Victor and Dinah standing on either side of him.

It was Dinah who said, "Welcome back to the land of the living, Arrow."

Calmly, Oliver opened the drawer and securely kept the device. He shut down the door with his code. Slowly he rose from his seat. His muscles ached from inactivity. His stomach growled for nourishment. Instead he stepped out from behind his desk. He walked over to his team.

His fist flew to Clark's face.

It hurt him a hell of a lot more than it bothered Clark. The man did not even blink. Oliver hissed in pain but glared at Clark. "You had no right! That was the only thing I had!"

Before he could hurt himself more, Victor raised a hand to him and Dinah stepped in front of Clark. Oliver shook himself free from Victor.

"You had no right to touch her program," Oliver said to Victor.

Victor shook his head. "We didn't touch her. We linked up to the scenarios."

Oliver blinked. The reactions seemed too responsive not to have been rewritten.

"Chloe was not just a preprogrammed part of the scenarios, Oliver. She was an avatar."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. He turned to Dinah. An avatar meant there was something that existed linked to it. His heart swelled. And then he realized—Since the wedding, she had not whispered a word of the program. For all intents and purposes, until today, there was every indication that she was living her life.

Dinah explained. "That's why we needed you awake. I found her, Oliver. She's held in a lab guarded by the Suicide Squad. We need to save her. We need to wake her up."

Oliver's breath caught in his throat. His entire body was paralyzed. He reached forward and grasped Victor's arm. He bent over at the intense pain in his gut.

Connor.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**The Avatar**

By Catheryne/tennysonslady

Characters: Chloe, Oliver, JL, SS, Lois

Summary: No matter the obstacles, Oliver will create the life he wants—wherever it is.

Rating: PG13

**Part 4**

In training, especially in archery, one rule was preeminent. This rule rose above it all. Keep your eyes on the prize. Never turn your back. It was this rule that Oliver had taught Mia over and over before she set off on her own. This was a rule that Oliver made clear to every last member of his team whenever they completed missions together.

This was in Oliver's head for so long that Oliver almost cursed himself when he made the very mistake that he had warned everyone about.

It should have been simple. But he had been erratic, thoughtless in his spur of the moment reactions. All he knew was that the team was primed in their respective spots. He waited for Dinah's voice. For some reason—maybe because it was she who had found the location in the first place—they had decided that they would follow Dinah's cue. It was only when the black military van rolled into the building gates, and Oliver spotted a slim opening, that it went to hell.

"Cue, Canary," he prompted, throwing off the rhythmic breathing.

"No," Dinah threw back. "We have to wait."

His heart beat fast. Wait. In between the beats, he thought, before letting the arrow fly. He taught Chloe that. He taught her hand to hand combat so that she could defend herself. Taught her everything he knew so he would never have to lose her.

She was inside, plugged and hooked to machines since he was foolish enough to let her walk away.

His heart beat fast that the flow of his blood was deafening, drowning even Dinah's voice.

He might claim to have missed Canary's instructions. Or if he survived he might say it did not matter. All Oliver knew was that his heart beat loud and it was easy to wait for the silence in between. His first arrow flew across the distance. When Canary cursed in his ear at his ill-timed offense, Oliver went radio silent and sprinted through the gates before they shut.

His eyes were on the prize. The prize was through those doors, inside that freezing room that Canary had described. Oliver threw gloved palms on the door to keep it from shutting.

And then he felt large arms throw him against the wall. He looked down at his attacker and saw Flagg glaring at him in disbelief.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Oliver was taken aback by the question. He would have though it obvious to the commander given the situation. So he demanded, "What happened, Flagg? Did she finally turn her back and your true nature get out?"

The muted explosions rocked their surroundings. Flagg hissed when sparks flew from the lock, breaking security in perpetuity. "Tell your team to stand down," the commander told Oliver.

"Why?"

"Because you are destroying the systems that are keeping Sullivan alive!"

Oliver's eyes narrowed at Flagg. Posed with the choice to trust the man or not, Oliver wavered. The fog within the room slowly dissipated. He turned his head. The grip that he had on Flagg's arms loosened as the misted glass cleared somewhat and revealed the still figure within.

Flagg pushed him to the side and rushed to the container, pressing a code into the machine.

At the sight of Oliver struck still by the doorway, Flagg explained, "During the final moments of the VRA we were caught in a match with skeletal forces. A piece of shrapnel lodged in her spine," he explained. Before Oliver could protest, Flagg continued, "She's seen that fight. She was prepared for the consequences."

If she did, then that was why she had prepared that goodbye, like a coward, through a VR. Oliver's rested a hand on the cold glass. It was a goodbye she had thought would remain, which she would be strong enough for.

"We couldn't wake her up, but we saw that her brain activity was full. And we know about the scenarios she'd built for you, so we connected her there, hoping we would keep her brain active enough to extract the secrets in her head."

Like the passcode to the missile systems. And heaven knew what else Chloe kept in that mind of hers.

"Over the last few months we managed to extract the shrapnel safely, but she's caught in there. Like she's not willing to wake up." He paused. "Or maybe she has no idea she's not in the real world. That's the most likely case because anytime we reach out, her avatar buries itself so deep inside the program where we can't reach her."

During the narrative the rest of his team and Flagg's companions had made their way into the room.

"Well she needs to realize it as soon as possible. Oxygen levels are dropping and we can't recover the pressure with the electricity busted by Queen's arrow here," related Deadshot, dropping the arrow on the floor.

In one computer, Victor worked and read through the code on the screen. "She's still in there. The VR hasn't been interrupted." He glanced at the power bar on the computer. "At least for the next few hours. Let me create an avatar. I'll wake her up."

"No." Oliver looked up to the team, then said, "Let me enter the virtual reality first."

Dinah placed a hand on his arm. "You need to be strong. She knows by now, and she's still right there. She's obviously willing to fight us on this. You've never fought anyone as intelligent—or as emotionally linked to you as Chloe is."

"She's not going to fight me."

Dinah shook her head. "There's a whole world of fighting strategies that anyone can take. Just keep your head, Arrow."

~o~o~

When Oliver opened his eyes, he became of his surroundings. He was in the back of a limousine. The plush leather seat beside him was empty. His head throbbed. The darkness inside the vehicle was in perfect tune with the late afternoon sun outside. He blinked his eyes at the sight of the crashing waves. Chloe stood outside the vehicle looking out at the tall abandoned lighthouse.

He stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards her. Despite his stealth she still turned around and looked at him when he moved. Her lips curved. She reached out a hand and he took it. Oliver stopped right behind her and pressed himself on her back, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her head.

"We're just outside Star City," she said softly.

"I see that."

The rickety old lighthouse was one of the places his father took him to. Back when he was a little boy, his father took pride in telling his son how his great grandfather used to walk from his home in the city, past the jagged rocks and climbed up those endless steps to burn a fire in that lighthouse. His bride was being sent from England all the way to California, and the man waited in that lighthouse, decades after the ship sank to the bottom of the Atlantic, and waited.

"I thought maybe you would be happier in your home town," she told him. "And I am willing to pack up our lives in Metropolis if you would be happier here."

His heart grew full. He turned her around in his arms until she faced him. Oliver lowered his head and kissed her. "I'm happy wherever you are."

In the back of his head he remembered Dinah's words of caution, but his senses were full of the loud, crashing waves, the fragrance of the fresh breeze, and the sensation of her kiss. Chloe's lips landed on the pulse in his neck. "Let's go to the lighthouse," she whispered against his skin.

It was an old lighthouse, hardly maintained at all by the city.

"It would be dangerous there. The steps could cave in." The wood, if Oliver remembered correctly, had not been the best, and in years of exposure to the elements the grain gave and fractured.

She cupped his face. "Maybe the steps were cemented these last few years," she suggested.

Oliver had no doubt when they arrived the staircase would be firm and stone. Because this was her world.

This was a virtual world to where she was trapped, for two years, and he was the only other soul she saw. And he had not realized.

"Come with me," she invited again. With a small smile that furthered the guilt in his heart, she pleaded, "I don't want to be alone."

The team waited, just there, right outside their heads. But she was beautiful to him, golden and glowing under the setting sun. Oliver broke into a grin, then nodded. When she giggled at the prospect, his heart soared. He held tightly to her hand as they burst into a run. When they hit the rocky beach, Chloe called for him to stop and she shucked off the heeled shoes that were merely inconvenient on the sand.

"Barefoot?" he yelled through the crashing waves.

"Better than tripping and bloody by the time we get there!" she cried out back to him.

Hand in hand, they ran across the rocky beach. Oliver was especially carefully when they crossed the jagged rocks. And then, when they reached the lighthouse, he looked up at the tall white building that gleamed red and orange. He peered inside, at the interior that was completely different from his own recollection, knew Chloe had seen photographs of the lighthouse but built the inside from imagination.

And she must have known that he would notice the difference. When he glanced back at her, for the first time, Oliver noticed the uncertainty in her gaze.

He loved her so much more for those moments of insecurity. Because beneath it all he was now the only person in the world with whom she would dare to be so open and vulnerable.

"It looks like I never left," he lied.

And she beamed, tugged at his hand as they raced up the wet, cement steps. The burst of enthusiasm enough to support his flagrant lie.

"Be careful!" he called out. "We're near enough and high enough that the wind can knock you down."

Her brows rose. She shook her head with a smile. "I'm not gonna fall. I've got you watching out for me, hero."

"That's damn right," he murmured.

The spray of water and the strong wind was steady through the wide open windows. She laughed when she saw him, and she reached to brush his wet hair off his forehead. When they reached the top, Oliver placed his hands on her waist. Her hair whipped back because of the wind.

"I love this," she told him as she looked out to the sea. "I want to live here."

He chuckled. "As used as I am to penthouses, living in this lighthouse will take a lot of very rational redesign choices." Her eyes were closed as she relished the cool air on her face. And he was pretty certain he would fund the interior design of hell if that was where she wanted to live.

She turned her head. And the smile had faded. "No, Ollie," she whispered. "Here. I want to live here."

His smile faded. "We need to go home."

"Why?" she challenged him. "Connor is here, Oliver. And we're so happy."

There was no way he could rebuff the statement. The year they were married, had Connor, in the months when he believed this was just a link to an empty program—was the happiest year in his life.

"You know why," was his only answer.

"I don't care," she whispered back. "I've lived in a virtual world years before this one, Ollie. But my world never became as near perfect as it is now."

She was shivering now, and Oliver rubbed his hands down her arms. He sucked in his breath when she wrapped her arms around his body tightly.

"I don't want to go," she whispered again. "If you love me, you'll stay."

In their short time together, she had never been selfish. Even when she ran far and lost herself, she did it for him and their friends. And sometimes he wished she could be selfish once, so that he would know what it was she truly wanted.

He heard it now.

Oliver slanted his lips over hers. A word caught in her throat. She rested her palms on his chest. He felt her tremble as the wind blew goosebumps on her wet skin. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Oliver raised his head, licked his lips, tasted her. He peeled her blouse back and bared her breasts to him, blowing a cold circled that perked her nipples. She hissed, closing her eyes and throwing back her head, when he licked the hardened nubs. When he bit gently, almost reverently, Chloe gasped and buried her fingers in his hair.

"Ollie," she breathed.

He knelt before her, over the clothes were thrown hastily on the floor. She looked down at him. When he rested his hands on her hips, she placed her palms over them. He guided her and she lowered herself over him. She gripped his shoulders. Oliver tightened his hold on her as he slowly filled her.

"I want to be with you," he said, in a whispered, fervent promise.

Their limbs were tangled as naked, they fell asleep. He woke up to find his skin warmed by the afternoon sun pouring in through the window. She looked back at him from where her chin rested on his chest. There was that silence that warred with the white noise of the waves and the wind and the sea. He looked around and realized they were not in his great grandfather's lighthouse.

"We're home," she said softly.

Oliver slowly looked around and recognized the mantel, the high ceilings, the furnishings around them. She had surrounded them with the master's bedroom of the Queen Manor.

"Star City. My parent's house," he said.

She sat up, her upper body bare, glinting golden in the light of the afternoon. And he adored that she could be so at ease around him. She bit her lower lip, then gave him a small smile. She drew her fingers down, trailing from the hollow of his throat, down to his chest, down to his navel. Oliver grabbed her hand, then brought it up to his lips.

"Chloe," he said again, "we need to talk. I want you to listen to me."

She must have known because the next that he knew there was a peeling cry and a knock. She stood from the bed and shrugged on a bedrobe. When she opened the door, Oliver glimpsed a strange woman holding out their son.

"Mrs Queen," said the woman.

"Give him to me."

She walked back towards him, Connor's squirming causing the bedrobe to fall slightly open. She looked back at him from the center of the room. She kissed Connor's neck, then Chloe asked, "Do you really want to leave this behind, Oliver?"

And then he blinked. And suddenly there were different shades of the soft sunlight. He looked up, recognized the stained glass windows high up that depicted the stations of the cross, realized they were now in the church where his mother and father had brought him to take his first communion. The heavy, solemn prayer rang within the echoing walls. As he adjusted to the new scenario, he looked down to the woman beside him.

She was lovely, in the white lace blouse with pearls he had seen only once in his mother's jewelry box.

"Help me," she whispered.

He took Connor from her and lifted him over the basin so that the priest could pour holy water over his head. Afterwards Chloe dried his head with a washcloth. She took Connor from Oliver and placed the cap on his head. Maybe he could stay. Maybe this was the best way to go. It would certainly be painless, and he would have everything he could possibly want.

She nodded towards the pews. Oliver glanced towards the audience. His heart stopped. His mother and father stood up front, and he saw the look of pure pride on his father's face. His jaw locked. He shook his head at Chloe, then walked down the aisle.

He heard her chasing after him, but he did not stop until he saw outside the church. In his frustration tears prickled his eyes. She caught his arm. He looked down at her pleading eyes.

"You stepped over a line, Chloe."

And she nodded. "I just—I didn't want you to leave."

The things we do when we fight for love. He knew, because he was stuck in this contortion of heaven and hell, and he would be, he knew, until the day he knew she would come with him.

In the end, she gave him the day to say goodbye. Sunday dinner with his parents answered all the questions he had as child. When they died he wanted one more day, and he took it with the calmness wrought in his veins by years of fighting and loving a woman who could slip away any time.

His mother offered to tuck Connor in, and his father—like every night when he was alive—went with his wife. Chloe wrapped her arms around Oliver's waist. His arm rested over her shoulders as they climbed the steps.

This was real. This was his reality now.

She reached for the knob on their bedroom door. Her hand phased through the knob. She raised her hand and Oliver saw how the colors faded, how those ones and zeroes blinked and faded. She looked up at him in panic.

Oliver closed his eyes, listening, in his state easily able to hear the commotion outside, in the world.

_Crashing. Her heart's failing. Oxygen levels. She's starting to seize._

He threw a glance towards the wing where his mother, his father, his son had vanished. And then he he reached for her.

"Take my hand, Chloe," he said firmly, gone was the gentleness. Right now she needed him to be the hero, just like she had been so many times before.

"I don't want to," she whispered. "The last year, Ollie…"

"If you wake up for me, we'll have fifty—eighty." When he saw her look towards the other wing, Oliver grabbed her arm. "Don't. I won't ask you to forget. But you know as well as I do that we need to get out now, Chloe. I'm not losing you. Not again."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. Oliver refused to give in. And she punished her. She was a master at it. He heard the cries of their son, their mock, their virtual, their genuinely loved baby.

"Take my hand," he pleaded. "You need to take my hand."

She closed her eyes, squeezed tightly shut, and placed her hand in his. He almost choked in his loud relief. Chloe buried her face in his chest. Oliver gave a final glance towards the wing, saw his father standing behind his mother while she held Connor. This was all just design. The floor between them fracture until the crevice yawned. Oliver looked down at the dark gap between.

He took a deep breath.

"Now, Chloe."

And soon they were falling.

Oliver opened his eyes. He stood quickly and stumbled towards the bed. The League, the squad, surrounded Chloe. He pushed his way to her and the machines slowed.

"She's stable," Victor said in relief.

The earth shook under his feet. No one else seemed to notice. They were aftershocks of the end. An end. He glanced at the mainframe computer and saw Tess standing before a program that disintegrated and shattered onscreen.

"It's gone," Tess read from the screen.

Oliver made his way back, sat on the edge of where she lay. Around him, one by one, the occupants of the room left. She was stable, and the only thing left to happen no one wanted to watch. And so Oliver sat alone and waited, watched and stayed beside her as her eyes fluttered open.

For the first time in two years, she opened her eyes. Her gaze rested on his face. On his lips he forced a smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice raspy, her throat dry. "It's all gone, isn't it?"

And he held her, imagined the crumbling lighthouse, the house that would fall down, the son and the parents that faded away.

"You built it all, single handedly, all by yourself," he reminded her. "And we had everything in a year." He kissed her temple, wet with her tears. Her body was limp, boneless almost, from such long inactivity. "You gave me a family and a home," he told her. "Imagine how much faster we can have it all when I'm building our life with you. Marry me."

She looked at him, blinked, pieced together what she knew, waded in the sad intertwined truths and lies.

And the virtual reality, he recognized, was as real to her as it had been to him.

So he helped her. "Again."

**fin**

Cheers to what was the actual end of Smallville for me – Chloe's last episode.


End file.
